Your Story, My Story
by Gazlover12-Canada
Summary: Ivan's story began in a soup kitchen. Alfred's story began when his wife left him. Somehow, their stories intertwine. Contains RusAme, with Little!Arthur.


Ivan's story began in a soup kitchen. The place had been pretty crowded and full of people who hadn't showered in months, but it was worth it to get a nice hot meal. It was degrading really, to be in such a place. That was why the Russian had avoided it for so long. But after three days with no food (except for half a Subway sandwich he found in the garbage) he'd finally relented.

As he stood in line, his thoughts reflected to the good times in his life. Growing up in Moscow with his two sisters, living in wealth, all of those things. Now here he was in New York City, jobless, homeless, and moneyless. How had he been reduced to this? What had he done to deserve this?

"Hey sonny, are 'yeh gonna move up already?" Someone snapped from behind him, stirring the Russian out of his thoughts. It was an old man who looked in his seventies, toothless and wearing fingerless gloves.

"Извините...er, I mean sorry." He muttered. His English wasn't the best, though he was improving a lot. He quickly moved up, and found that it was finally his turn to be served. It was then when he first set his eyes on the man that would change his life forever.

"Hi there! Are you new around here? I'm pretty good with faces but I don't recognize you." The man behind the counter greeted him as he scooped a heaping pile of spaghetti onto a tray. He looked young, less than thirty at least.

His face was slightly tanned but flawless, and his hair was the color of golden wheat. He had a grin that showed off sparkling white teeth, but what was most intriguing were his eyes. Never had Ivan seen such blue eyes before. He couldn't help but stare until he realized that the man had asked him a question.

"Oh, yes. I am new here." He answered. The other man raised his eyebrow.

"Wow, you really aren't from around here. You Russian?"

"Da," Ivan responded. The man reached across the counter and patted his shoulder, handing him his tray of food.

"Well you made a good choice leaving that communist place and coming here. I'm Alfred by the way." He introduced himself cheerfully.

Ivan grew a little annoyed. He wanted to tell this man, Alfred, several things. First off, Russia wasn't even a communist country anymore! Secondly, he didn't even want to be here, he was deported! It was either choose to come here or go spend the rest of his life in a gulag. He hadn't even done anything to deserve it either! He'd been framed for murdering several people with a faucet pipe. That's what happened when you were born into a wealthy family, he supposed. After his parents had died, he would be the one to take over the company. But obviously his father must have had enemies, because now he was in this situation.

"Nice to meet you." He said dryly, before quickly leaving to go find a seat. Alfred moved on as well, greeting the person who'd been behind Ivan enthusiastically.

It wasn't the best food in the world, but it was hot and there was plenty, so Ivan didn't complain. After finishing everything on his plate, he quickly brought his dish over to the counter and slipped from the building. It was late, and the cold October wind made him shiver. He walked about a block from the building, towards the alleyway where the closest thing to home was.

His current 'home' was a refrigerator box in the back of an alleyway. It was actually quite comfortable, unless it was raining or cold outside. He had a small blanket, a little lantern, and a cup that he used to collect change he found on the side of the road. His pride would be way too hurt if he reduced to begging on the side of the streets.

The wind was beginning to pick up, so he quickly climbed into his box. There were some cracks in the cardboard, but for the most part he was shielded from the cold. Unfortunately a few minutes later it started to rain. Water seeped through the cardboard, and Ivan curled up miserably with his blanket and went to sleep.

* * *

Alfred's story began three years ago, when his wife left him. He'd caught her with another man, on their bed nonetheless, and there had been a very big argument. You're never here for me Alfred. You leave me stuck with this brat all day. I'm lonely Alfie. Then she left, leaving only one thing behind: Arthur, their son who had been three at the time.

Being a single parent was rough, especially the first year. Now he had adjusted towards how to raise his child alone, but that didn't make it much easier. After Alfred's wife had left, he'd quit his business job and taken to doing a complete lifestyle change.

Volunteering at soup kitchens, homeless shelters, counseling drug addicts...that was his new life now. He helped people change their lives around, and that was the way he liked it. He would take Arthur with him places, and they did move around quite a bit. They'd started off in Washington DC, then Michigan, later New Jersey, and now New York.

There were two really nice things about his job (or jobs). First off, he loved it when he could change a person's life for the better. Not everyone was a lost cause. All you needed was a bit of hope and it could make a big difference. The second reason was that he had plenty of time for Arthur. His counseling job took place during school hours, and the rest was mostly volunteering, which had no permanent schedule.

He often took Arthur with him to charity events, since the kid won the hearts of everyone around him. He sometimes took Arthur with him when he helped out at shelters, but it depended. Some of them were a bit sketchy and overcrowded. Alfred sympathized with the troubled and homeless, but he had to admit that some people, such as drug addicts or people with mental illnesses, could be dangerous.

But still, some could be helped. It was his job to help. It was his job to be their hero.

"Daddy?"

Alfred startled from his thoughts. His child, his motivation, his _life_, was standing in the hallway clutching a teddy bear to his chest.

"Artie? What are you doing up? Come here buddy." Alfred said, patting the couch which he was sitting on, a glass of Coke in his hand as he reviewed his group counseling plan for the next day. Arthur crossed the room in his flannel pajamas, climbing onto his father's lap.

"What's up Arthur?" Alfred asked again, wrapping his arms around the small form.

"I was just wondering about Mummy," The six year old admitted, his piercing green eyes looking upwards. Alfred had to wonder where those eyes came from. His ex-wife had never had green eyes, and neither did he. Either way, those eyes were precious jewels in his eyes. So full of innocence and pure kindness. All fathers must be prideful of their children, but Alfred knew that his pride was deserved.

The worst part about her was that she didn't like Arthur. 'Brat' was what she referred to him as. And it wasn't used as a term of affection either. It was obvious that she neglected Arthur when Alfred wasn't around. Hell, she had neglected him when Alfred actually was around. He had just been too stupid to tell until she was gone.

"Artie, she...she just wasn't a good mommy," Alfred said with a sigh, running his hand through Arthur's bright blonde locks. "Sometimes a person doesn't realize what's really important. Both me and your mommy were in that situation. She just handled it badly."

"I don't miss her," Arthur told him seriously. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"It's okay to miss her you know," Alfred told him gently. "Just because you know I don't like her doesn't mean you don't have to."

"But I don't," Arthur repeated. "There are _no _good memories daddy."

No good memories…

Alfred had to agree.

* * *

Ivan was starving. He was also filthy from lack of clean water, and he was also on the brink of an emotional breakdown. People in America were so...wild. And rude. And always in a hurry. Plus everyone gave his this superior look just because he was obviously homeless.

Be that as it may, he needed another full meal again. It had been a week since his visit to the food shelter, and quite frankly he was getting rapidly malnourished. He'd lost at least ten pounds since coming to America.

"Well," The Russian sighed to himself. "It looks like it's the soup kitchen tonight."

The place was crowded as usual. He was about to get in line, but was elbowed back by a rude old man who smelt of booze and smoke. Once again he attempted to get back in line, but this time a teenage boy shoved past him, and so of course he couldn't fight back.

"Hey, it's mean to cut!" A small yet bold voice shouted from nearby. Ivan looked to his side, and then down, staring straight into an angry pair of green eyes. It was a tiny boy who couldn't have been older than six or seven.

"Butt out of it kid," The teenager shot back. The younger boy didn't "butt out" of it though. Instead he crossed his arms and looked ready to attack. Ivan, not wanting to be responsible for a child getting into trouble, was quick to calm him.

"Don't worry, it is no big deal." He assured him.

"But he cut!" The boy replied, as if it was the worst offence in the world. "You're not supposed to cut. I'm going to go get my daddy."

Ivan certainly didn't want to cause any trouble. "No wait, you don't have to-"

"DADDY!" The little boy shouted aloud, and Ivan cringed. He was a big scary guy. That meant that he probably looked like the bad guy here, and therefore he would get the blame.

"Arthur? What's wrong little dude?"

Ivan's heart stopped at that voice. Oh great, it was the same American as the last time! Was the world just out to get him or something?

Alfred caught sight of him and greeted cheerfully, "Oh hey, it's the communist guy!"

Before Ivan could respond to that rude acknowledgement, the little boy who was apparently called Arthur butted him. "Daddy, everybody keeps cutting in front of this...comm….commu" Arthur struggled to repeat what his father had called Ivan. "This _commune_ guy!"

Alfred chuckled at the pronunciation, but the got serious. "Oh yeah? Well we'll just have to fix that, won't be buddy?" Then he turned to look at Ivan. "Come this way commie."

"Ivan," The Russian said flatly, not moving an inch.

"Huh?" Alfred stared dumbly, a small smile still adorning his face.

"My name is Ivan. And I am not a communist."

"Oh, sure dude," Alfred agreed, although humorously. "Well follow me _Ivan_. You can come up straight to the kitchens and eat. But in return you can help me and Artie out in the kitchen when you're done eating."

That seemed like a fair compromise. It wasn't as if he had any place to be. He supposed this dense American meant well, so he graciously accepted the offer.

"Thank you," He said softly, and followed the man and his boy up front and into the kitchen. He Alfred gave him an already filled plate of spaghetti, loaded with garlic, cheese, and tomatoes. Another plate was passed off to Arthur, and then Alfred also took one for himself.

"Pasta night is always popular. Two Italian brothers come in and spend all day making a ton, but every single bit is always gone before the night is over," Alfred informed him as the three of them ate standing up behind a counter. "Anyways, we just have some dishes to do, and then we'll be all set for the night."

Ivan didn't say anything, instead focusing upon his delicious food. Just as he had surmised, Alfred was not a man of few words.

"So...what exactly brought you to America? You got any family? I take it you're in some financial trouble right now."

He was about to roll his eyes, and then he realized that it didn't really matter who he told his story too. "I have two sisters, and was going to take over a family business. Instead I was set up and then deported from my country."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Woah...are you serious dude?"

"Sadly I am very serious. Trust me, I would much rather be back home."

"It must be kinda hard being here then. Where are you staying right now?" Alfred asked curiously.

"_Kinda hard_ is a very lenient statement. And right now I live in a box a few blocks down."

"Aw dude, why aren't you staying in a shelter? It's freezing outside." Alfred exclaimed, slurping up the rest of his pasta and setting his plate down.

"I prefer to stay away from shelters. Some of the people creep me out a bit."

"You can stay with us."

Both older men looked down at the child who had spoke. Ivan had forgotten about him. Arthur looked up with troubled green eyes, his food barely touched.

"Arthur," Alfred sighed. He really did feel sorry for the man, but it was really risky to let homeless people who you only just met inside of your house. Ivan did seem like an honest and trustworthy man, but when your life was in a low point then you could turn desperate. Ivan could steal something or hurt one of them, and he wasn't going to risk his child getting hurt.

"It is fine," Ivan quickly said, putting a hand up. "I would never impose like that. I am able to get by just fine."

"Well hold on a sec," Alfred said. "I do have a way to help. Actually my job is to help people in sticky situations, people like you. I can help get you a job and stuff if you want."

A job...that could certainly help.

"Here's my card," Alfred said, handing a slip of paper to him. "The place I work is just around the corner. Come see me tomorrow morning and we'll work this out."

"Thank you so much." Ivan said. Perhaps this man wasn't totally useless. He just had an eccentric personality. In a city like this you needed to be like that to get anywhere in life, he supposed.

"Daddy it's raining out tonight," Arthur said, urgently pulling his parent's sleeve. "Couldn't he stay just one night, and go to work with you in the morning?"

Alfred looked outside at the freezing rain and sighed internally. He didn't want Ivan to sleep out in the cold either, but it was a risk and a bad habit to get into if he let Ivan stay a night. But then again it was only for a night, and what was life without some risks here and there? They would just have to be cautious.

"Really little one, it is fine, I do not need-"

"You can stay for one night," Alfred cut him off. "But don't make me regret it. Do you do drugs or drink alcohol?"

"Of course not!" Ivan said. "And I really don't need to stay the night, I am fine in my box."

'_His box'_. That sounded so pathetic.

"You can sleep in my bed!" Arthur said cheerily. "I sleep in Daddy's bed most nights anyway. He says I can until second grade, and then I'll be a big boy, and have to sleep in my own bed."

"You can take a nice shower too," Alfred informed him. "You're kinda taller than me, but I think my pajamas will fit you for the most part."

Ivan tried to protest against all of this, but he was dragged over to the sinks where there were piles of dirty dishes to be cleaned, and the father and son chatted away to him. Ivan found out that they had an apartment ten minutes away by car, and that it had two bedrooms, a tv with two remotes that went with it, and two fish named Nemo and Bacon. The more they talked to him, the more he realized that he was alright staying there for a night.

The mountain of dishes disappeared quickly, and soon Alfred declared them done for the night.

"Jeez, it's almost ten on a school night. We gotta head home so we can get this one to bed," Alfred said, indicating to Arthur, who yawned deeply and held out his arms. With no hesitation the American scooped him up and led them out.

"Hey Liz, I'm leaving!" He called out to a young woman who was wiping the tables. "You need a ride home?"

"That's alright sweetie, Roderich is on his way." The woman answered back. "See you tomorrow!"

They walked a little bit down the street to a small red car that was parallel parked on the street. The back was covered with superhero bumper stickers and there was a small dent in the back.

"This car is my baby...well, second after Artie of course." Alfred said as he unlocked the door and bucked Arthur up in the backseat, who was groggily struggling to stay awake. "I've had it since my senior year in High School, and she's still running almost perfectly!"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"Well, once in awhile the engine won't start, but that hasn't happened in like a month."

Ivan decided not to comment on that. He actually hadn't been in a vehicle for awhile. He'd been put on a cargo ship for his deportation, and before that he had always been driven in the back of prestigious limos. Frankly this car seemed like a death trap, but he supposed he wasn't in any position to complain.

They got to the apartment a few minutes later. Alfred parked off the street and they went up the stairs, since theirs was on the second floor. Arthur had become more alert now and was walking on his own. It took a moment for Alfred to find the key, but then he unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

"It's not too impressive, but it's home!" Alfred said cheerily, flipping on the lightswitch. Ivan immediately wiped his shoes on the matt and slid them off his feet.

It seemed like a nice homey little place. There was a small kitchen and living room connected, and a hallway that had three doors. Ivan guessed they led to the two bedrooms and a bathroom. There were books and toys scattered on the floor and the sink was filled with unclean dishes, but it wasn't overly filthy. It just looked like there was a single man and a child living there, as it should look like.

"Okay," Alfred clapped his hands together. "You know the routine Art, 'jammies and teeth."

"Couldn't I stay up a little longer?" Arthur asked.

"Nope, there's school tomorrow. But the weekend is only two days away, and then you can."

Arthur seemed satisfied with this, and ran off towards the bedroom.

"Let me go get you something to change into," Alfred said. "We can put the clothes you have on now into the wash and they'll be ready by morning."

Ivan felt guilty for ever having bad thoughts about this man. Both he and his son were nothing but good hearted people. Not many would invite one into their home after they'd only known them for a few hours. To top that off Alfred was going to help him get a job. He supposed that he shouldn't judge someone so quickly from now on.

Alfred went into his bedroom and returned a moment later with a pair of sweats and a tee.

"This is the best I could do. The shirt will be fine, but the pants might be a little short."

"Trust me, this is wonderful." Ivan said. "And really...thank you so very much for allowing me to stay here the night. I promise to not steal or do untoward things to you and your boy."

It sounded sort of creepy when it came out of his mouth like that, but Alfred didn't seemed too freaked out. He threw his head back and laughed. "Sure dude, no problem. Artie and I will have you back on your feet in no time!"

Speaking of that, Arthur came down the hallway.

"Goodnight Daddy," He said, and Alfred kissed his head. Then unexpectedly he turned to Ivan and wrapped his arms around his leg. "Goodnight Mr. Ivan."

Ivan didn't have much experience with children, but his heart warmed at the affection and he hesitantly patted the child on the head. "Goodnight."

Things went quite smoothly after that. Alfred showed him how to use the shower, and the feeling of hot water left him practically drooling in content. It was only when he realized that the hot water was beginning to fade did he shut it off. Changing into comfy clothes was almost as great as the hot water. It must have been at least a half hour until he left the bathroom. When he did, he found Alfred sitting on the couch.

"Wow, those pants are too small," He noted with a small frown.

"I think they are _wonderful_!" Ivan pretty much sang, but then he looked down a little guiltily. "Um, but I think I used up your hot water."

Alfred laughed and said, "Oh don't worry, I shower in the morning, and Artie takes baths every other day. Come have a seat."

"The little one," Ivan said as he plopped onto the couch next to Alfred. "He is very well mannered. How old is he?"

"He just turned six," Alfred said proudly. "Yeah, he really is something. Everybody at work loves him."

"Six?" Ivan asked, eyes widening. "He seems so small. I was guessing around four."

"Yeah, he's a tiny guy. But that doesn't stop him, you should see him when he's angry," Alfred said, his smile widening.

"And it is just you two living here?" Ivan asked, and then immediately turned red when he saw Alfred's smile fade. Oh crap, he should have not brought up something so personal. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, it's okay." Alfred said. "I mean, there's no use in keeping it a secret. I was married for a few years to a girl I met right after high school. She got pregnant with Arthur when we were both nineteen. I was in college, she was a waitress, and we were just kinda young and wild."

"And she left?" Ivan guessed.

"Three years ago," Alfred confirmed. "I was working a lot ever since I got my business degree, and she stayed home with Arthur. But she wasn't a mom to him. She would just neglect him and bring home other guys to screw with. Only I was too stupid to figure that out right away. Needless to say, when I did figure it out we ended things, and she just up and left."

Ivan didn't really know what to say. "I am very sorry. I suppose you are better off without her."

Alfred smiled again. "Yeah, I sure am. It made me realize a few things, and the first was that I had to start being a dad. So I quit my business job and now I help homeless people. My work schedule is really lenient with time, so I'm able to be a parent and afford to live comfortably."

"That was very admirable of you." Ivan said softly. "Arthur is very lucky to have such a good parent."

"Yeah, well," Alfred brushed it off with a small laugh. "So let me hear your full story. All I got so far is that you used to be rich, you got set up, and now you're homeless in New York."

Ivan sighed, but then realized that it would be good to get this whole thing off his chest.

"I grew up in luxury. My Father owned a very large chain of hardware stores that were all over the nation. I have an older sister Katyusha and a younger sister Natalia. Mother died a few years ago from cancer. Father died only a month ago from an unexpected heart attack. I, as the only son of the family, was going to step into the role of managing the company. But then I was set up. Somebody framed me for murdering people with a faucet pipe...a pipe that we sold at our stores nonetheless!"

"Jeez big guy, that sucks!" Alfred said in concern. Ivan raised one eyebrow at being called 'big guy', but finished up his story.

"And so I could either spend the rest of my life in a gulag, or leave the country. It was a very absurd thing, because I did not even get a proper trial. I am hoping that one of my sisters will take over the company so whoever framed me will not win, but since neither of them wanted to take it over, I have no idea what will happen."

Suddenly out of nowhere Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me dude. Things always get worse before they get better. I was in really bad shape when my wife left me. Then I pulled myself together and I'm living a life that makes me happy. I'm gonna get you back on your feet, I'm telling you. Scout's honor."

Ivan didn't know what 'scouts honor' meant, but he was flattered. "I really am very appreciative of this. Perhaps things will turn out okay."

"This is the land of opportunities," Alfred told him with a wink. "America is awesome, just trust me on that. But hey, we should probably get to bed. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day for us both."

Ivan readily agreed, and so Alfred showed him to Arthur's room. Ivan's feet hung off the smaller bed, but it was warm and soft and snug, and a thousand times better than that old refrigerator box. He did not even mind the frogs and bunnies painted on the walls.

'_So Alfred will get me back on my feet, yes?'_, He thought to himself sleepily. '_I sure hope he is right.'_

**Leave a quick review and tell me your thoughts please! **

**I've been thinking about writing this for awhile. I'm not sure if it came across as an uninteresting plot or not, so please let me know! **


End file.
